Page 26 of The Earl's Hired Bride
“I believe I may have,” he said softly.
She tossed her head. “But you don’tknow?” It came out a bit scornfully.
“I don’tknow,” he agreed easily. “But I find I don’t know anything like I thought I did. For instance, I know the birds are singing. I know the breeze is rustling the leaves in the trees, but all I feel is your arm in mine and all I hear is the beat of my heart and the slide of silk over your skin.”
She stopped and looked up at him.
And there it was. Potential. Pull. Energy and almost a living temptation dancing between them—openly acknowledged at last.
How she wished this was a real fork in the road. A place where she could choose to chase potential, chase him. But she hadn’t been born the lady he needed, and she wouldn’t allow herself to fill any other role in his life.
So she breathed deeply, experienced fully the beauty of this moment—and then pulled it to a halt.
“Very pretty, Hart, but save it for when we have an audience.”
His expression stilled. She took the opportunity to steer him toward several stands of trees off to the left. He went along, but looked down at her with a very real question in his eyes. “What is it that we are doing, Emily?”
She straightened her spine. “I’m showing Miss Paxton that I keep my promises.”
She pulled him behind a tree and he went willingly. She positioned him so that his back was against a hickory and she was facing back the way they’d come. She edged an eye out, saw Miss Paxton hurrying in their direction, and ducked back.
“What are you doing now?” Hart asked. He hadn’t let her avoidance upset him. In fact, he now looked amused.
“I’m judging the best timing of the thing.”
“This is a new side of you, Emily. Very martial.”
“Yes, well, I’m the general in the campaign for your freedom, am I not?” She clutched his arms. “Wait. Wait. A moment longer. Now!”
Stepping close, she pulled him down and kissed him.
Hart stiffened. Then he put his hand on her waist and she jumped at the jolt that darted through her at the contact.
“You started it,” he murmured.
And then his lips touched hers again. And she was gone. Lost in a sweet, sharp ache that only grew as his arms slipped around her to gather her close. His mouth teased her, tempted her, coaxed with a questing tongue and she answered, melting against him as he seared her, claimed her with the heat of his kiss.
Good heavens. They were molded together, her breasts pressing against his coat, his hands moving over her, across the small of her back, and over the curve of her hips. Fire flared between them. Her hands crept upward, clutched those broad shoulders close for one more long, delicious moment—then she pushed away.
She stared into his dark eyes for the space of one heartbeat, two, then glanced over towards the water. Miss Paxton and her maid had moved away and joined the group of others at the shore.
“There,” she said in a shaky voice. “We showed her, didn’t we?”
Chapter 6
Hart was in trouble. He’d hired Emily so that he could take his mind off of marriage-minded misses and concentrate on his work. Instead, as each day passed, he grew more and more focused on his faux fiancé—and it had only grown worse since that kiss in the park.
He’d never met a woman like her. She was down to earth, kind, practical, a curvy goddess. Yet at the same time she was quick and witty and somehow fit seamlessly into her role as a Young Society Miss. And she felt protective toward him. Towardhim. The novelty of it amused him almost as much as the sweetness of it touched him.
Strangely, since all he’d wanted was to avoid the girls who longed to become mistress of Hartsworth, he kept thinking that he’d like to show it to Emily.
He felt sure that she would love the Great Hall, with the galleries and the fireplace big enough to roast an ox. He could clearly see her rejoicing in the summer roses in the enclosed garden. Her practical side would be as aghast as his at the price of those custom windows, surely. But would she believe in the family ghosts? And would his great-great-grandmother visit her, as she did every time a new heir to Hartsworth was conceived?
Oh, Lord. He was in so much trouble.
Since he was currently unable to focus on the never-ending debate over the Corn Laws, he took himself off to White’s. He still needed to track down Peter Grant.
He found his friend this time, poring over the papers in the Morning Room. Hart took a seat next to him, called a porter to bring a bottle of brandy, and poured two drinks.
